The Cosmopolitan Virus
by Baltimore Raven
Summary: Frank and Nancy have been coping with Joe's death for over a year now, but when the supposedly dead brother shows up alive and with a dangerous secret, tensions begin to run high. Meanwhile, after years of being shut down, the Network is back thanks to a global terrorist organization. Now the whole team will have to fight and survive a threat that they can't even see...
1. Prologue

**A/N: I'm baaaaaaack! Did you miss me? ;) **

**So this is my first posted multi-chapter fanfic. Prologue is short, but the rest of the chapters should be roughly 1,000-1,500 words, give or take a few hundred. I plan to update every Monday and Thursday, but I'll let you know if that changes. **

**Rated T for some violence and thematic elements. **

**So... I guess this is where I have to say I don't own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys. I do own a bag of Reese's, though. **

* * *

_Fourteen months ago... _

"You're really going to go, aren't you?" Frank asked quietly amidst the crackling of the fireplace. The place suddenly seemed too cold and quiet.

"Yeah," Joe's face was serious; his tone was serious. Everything about him was finally serious for once in his life, and that scared his big brother. What happened to that irresponsible nutcase that had lived there just months before?

He grew up. That's what happened.

"I have to go, Frank; I _want_ to go."

The older man shook his head. "Joe, you're not going to Tahiti! We're talking about a middle-eastern war zone here!"

"If you were asked to go fight for your country, wouldn't you go?" he was for real about this. There was no turning back. "If you had the chance to go and defend the people you love, to serve in the Army, wouldn't you go?"

Frank couldn't say no.

* * *

**Told you it was short.**

**Sorry about that.**

**Review? :D**


	2. Chapter One

**A/N: I decided that because the prologue was so short y'all should go ahead and get chapter one. Enjoy! **

**The Good News: I can write fanfiction about Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys! **

**The Bad News: I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys. **

* * *

_Present Day_

"Well, I'm officially bored," Nancy muttered as she tossed her french-fry pouch back into the paper McDonald's sack. She could easily drive for two hours without getting bored. But sitting in a _stationary_ car? That was a whole different story.

Frank, who was sitting in the driver's seat, leaned back and sighed. "You can say that again."

"I've seriously spent days of my life on stakeouts."

"I guess they're kind of the paperwork of amateur investigation, huh?" Frank said, "They're long and boring and nobody wants to sit through them."

Nancy couldn't help but smile. "You can say that again."

Chuckling a little, the handsome young man checked his phone. "It's midnight," he informed Nancy, "We've been here for three hours. You still think the informant's going to show up?"

"I don't know." Nancy shook her head and crossed her arms. "You never do with the bad guys."

Near silence stretched out between the two; only the occasional click of a phone button or rattle of an icy soda were heard. For the next half-hour Nancy just stared out the windshield while Frank kept scanning the parking lot around them.

The stillness was agonizing as the seconds crawled by. In the detectives' minds, time had very nearly stalled.

"Still think he's going to show?" Frank finally asked.

Nancy sighed. "No. You're right," she threw a wadded up napkin at the floorboard in frustration. "This was stupid."

"You want to head back to the house?"

"Might as well."

Frank nodded while understanding her disappointment. Nancy had barely gotten any sleep in a week because she'd been working to nab a man suspected of embezzlement, and she had been so sure that this night would end it.

He reached down and turned the key in the ignition. The engine sputtered and choked, but never turned over. Glancing down at his gas meter, Frank could almost _feel_ the cold, hard glare he felt sure that he was going to get when he explained this to Nancy. But to his surprise, the look she gave didn't carry the slightest bit of anger; in fact, she looked more concerned than irritated as he finished admitting the problem.

"Frank," she softly asked after several moments, "Are you doing okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

With a forced half-smile, Nancy snorted bitterly. "Well, as I recall, _I'm_ supposed to be the one that runs out of gas."

He didn't respond.

"_You're_ the one that fills up when you're down to half a tank," she continued. More gently, though, the young woman added, "Now you can't tell me that something's not on your mind."

The dark-headed detective stared blankly at the Toyota logo on the car's steering wheel. It was true that a thousand little things tumbled through his mind on a daily basis, but those he could get around…

"Frank?"

…It was just that one big thing that was constantly on his mind.

"I just miss him," Frank finally relented. "And I hate thinking of what he might have done."

Nancy nodded in understanding. She didn't meet his eyes – she was too afraid of the pain she might see there.

It was all a big, fat mess that neither of them wanted to talk about. And the subject wasn't often spoken of by anyone. Neither detective knew for sure what or even if Joe had done anything traitorous or shameful while in Afghanistan. They just hoped that the accusations were false.

But a constant fear had haunted them every day: what if every accusation was true?

"I just woke up one day and had this notion that maybe… maybe because it had been more than a year since it all happened that I could finally just let go and move on." He sounded tired and sick of all the built-up emotion. Hitting the steering wheel hard, he exclaimed, "But I have no idea how I'm supposed to do that!"

"_Frank,_" Nancy said seriously, now turning her head and looking straight at his face. "Don't do it. Don't ever try to let go. Trust me, when my mom died, I was three. I was too young to understand what was going on and I let go without even thinking about it. And believe me when I say that there isn't a day that goes by in which I don't regret that.

"I hate this, too. But no matter what, _do not _let go."

It was done and over.

There was nothing they could do about it.

_Joe was dead._

* * *

The hinges on the door to Fenton Hardy's study had been squeaking for months. His wife had pestered him at one point to just buy some WD-40 and fix it, but Fenton had grown to like the screeching as the heavy oak door was opened. The noise acted as a bit of a perimeter alert – if anyone entered or exited the study through that door, he'd know.

And after hours of sitting behind his solid wooden desk, the middle-aged man finally heard that very squeak.

"Where have you two been?!" he asked worriedly as Frank and Nancy dragged themselves inside. "It's two in the morning; you should have been back hours ago!"

Frank looked a bit sheepish as he all but collapsed into one of the armchairs in front of the desk. "I forgot to put gas in the car."

Ever since losing his youngest, the now father of one had been hesitant to let Frank even leave the house. If it were up to him, the twenty-year-old would have been within his father's sight at all times. But that wasn't how the world worked. Frank needed to get out on his own for awhile, especially after Joe's death.

Fenton sighed. "Well, at least the informant showed up."

He was met with two weary looks. "The informant _did_ show up, didn't he?"

"Nope," Nancy said. "It was all a wild goose chase."

Fenton smiled a little as he stood and walked around to put a hand on Frank's shoulder. Looking at Nancy, he said, "Well, don't worry about it. We've all had lousy stakeouts." With a mischievous grin he added, "_This_ lousy, though…"

Nancy tossed a throw pillow at him, which he clumsily batted away.

"Still here!" Frank held his hands up in surrender as the pillow landed on him. "But I think I'm going to go to bed before this gets any more violent."

"That's actually a pretty good idea," Nancy tiredly. To Fenton, she asked, "Am I staying here tonight?"

He smiled. "Laura already kidnapped your suitcase and put it in the guest room."

"I had a feeling she might do that." The redhead moved to leave, but she came to a hard stop as soon as her eyes hit the door. Frank had opened it, but stood frozen. Nobody breathed, and Nancy was pretty sure her heart stopped for a couple of seconds as she took in the sight before her.

Joe Hardy was standing in the doorway.

* * *

**A/N: So? You likey? You no likey? Review and tell me! Next chapter to come on Thursday! **


	3. Chapter Two

**A/N: So I really stink at proofreading because I have a hard time coming at it from the reader's perspective. My brain puts the first piece of the puzzle in, and then forgets that that piece isn't in the actual story. But I've cleaned up the prologue and first chapter to hopefully explain just a little bit more of the backstory on this so hopefully that will help. But the backstory is supposed to be a bit arcane as it is a large part of the character arcs. It's weird. Anyways... **

**Thanks to all my awesome reviewers Kirsty, Caranath, max2013, Foxy121, bhar, barb, GJFH, The Vulture (cool username, by the way), and j! **

**GJFH: To answer your question, no, I don't live anywhere close to Baltimore, nor am I a die-hard Ravens fan. Baltimore Raven is a nickname that I got while on a church youth retreat. **

**This is the sad time when I have to state that I don't own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys. Grrr. **

* * *

Fourteen months ago

_Frank stared at the parchment in his hands, his mind reeling in disbelief. It was just standard office paper with some ink on it; so how did it have the ability to take apart his life? _

"_We regret to inform you," he sighed sadly after reading aloud the first words of the letter. Over the past few minutes he had read and reread the entire thing until the detective almost knew every word by heart. _

_It almost seemed funny. Maybe it was all just one big practical joke and Joe was actually coming home. _

"_Sergeant Joseph Irving Hardy of the United States Army was killed in action the night of October 22, 2012 while on deployment in Afghanistan," Frank continued reading, "At this time, little is known of the circumstances surrounding his death. An investigation is ongoing and the family will be kept updated as facts become available for release." _

_This couldn't be happening. His brain was screaming at him in denial, and he wanted so badly to listen to it. Why his little brother? Why?! _

…_Why?_

* * *

Present day

"Joe?" Frank asked hesitantly. It had been so many months since he'd seen the blonde, since he'd been told that Joe was gone. Every painful moment came back to him, and he didn't understand how it could be real. How was Joe standing there?

Behind Frank, Nancy looked on in utter shock. Her mouth had fallen open and every ounce of her being wanted to push out with at least a dozen questions, but despite the urge, she held still and kept quiet.

In fact, the whole room was so quiet that you could almost hear a pin drop.

"Charlie?" Fenton asked as a second man appeared in the study. Charlie Lansing had been a friend of Joe's since high school. On top of that, he had been in both ATAC and the Network before they were shut down and when Frank was too sick or injured to go out in the field, Charlie would often help Joe on missions.

"Mr. Hardy, on behalf of the United States Army, I give you my apologies for putting you through this ordeal," the dark-haired sergeant said crisply. In his formal United States Army uniform, though, he looked well above his age of just twenty.

"Charlie, it's just us. You don't have to bother with the formalities, but I would like to know _what_ is going on!" Fenton was nearly pleading by this point.

For the first time, Joe spoke up. "Dad… I know this is a lot to take in, but…"

"To keep sensitive information secure, I'm afraid Joe's death had to be faked." Charlie explained.

Frank frowned. "Sensitive information?"

With an apologetic shrug, the sergeant said, "That's all I'm allowed to tell you right now."

"So what _aren't_ you telling us?"

"Hey, guys, just calm down." Joe put a hand on his brother's arm, bringing Frank's gaze back to him.

"Joe?"

Rolling his eyes, the blonde responded with, "No duh."

Frank knew right then that it truly was Joe Hardy standing in front of him. Unable to contain himself any longer, he flung his arms around his little brother and hugged the irresponsible young man tightly. Soon Fenton followed suit, and all three Hardy men were grinning like idiots.

"Nancy?" Joe asked as he saw her standing away from the rest of the crowd.

She took a deep breath as Frank and Fenton stood aside. "It's really you?" the woman asked as she stepped towards him.

"It sure is," he replied with a gentle smile.

Nancy took another stride forward, as though to hug him. But with only inches between them…

She drew back her fist and punched him hard in the gut.

Charlie rubbed the back of his neck as Nancy stormed out the door. "Is she an ex-girlfriend?"

* * *

"Did you know you drive a really hard sucker punch?" Joe asked as he found Nancy standing in the kitchen making coffee, her back to him. Tension mounted in the air between the honorary siblings as he leaned forward against the large island separating the two. When Nancy didn't respond to the question, he pressed her. "What's going on?"

She turned around and looked straight at him. "Don't think you can play innocent. I know something happened in Afghanistan."

Joe ran a hand through his hair. "Nancy…"

"Hey, if I'm wrong, then just tell me what happened." Nancy added in a mocking tone, "Unless it's some big government secret."

"Nance."

"No! You can't just pet name your way out of this one, Joe." Placing her hands firmly on the counter, she took a deep breath and struggled regain her cool. Looking right into his eyes, she asked quietly, "Did you do it? Did you betray your country?"

Joe sighed. Everything had seemed so good. He was finally coming back to Bayport, after fourteen months being rejoined with his family and friends… but that one problem was pulling everything apart.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "Yeah, I did."

And with those words, he knew that he had just lost the trust of one of his best friends.

* * *

Nancy shut the bedroom door a little harder than she probably should have. Frustrations were just piling up in her mind, making her stress levels go up.

"Why did he go off and do something so idiotic?!" she growled under her breath while rummaging violently through her suitcase for some pajamas and a toothbrush. It was a few moments before she found them, and her mood was no better.

The twenty-year-old was en route to the bathroom when her cell phone went off. She thought about ignoring it - frankly she was too angry to care. But then the redhead realized that it was the middle of the night. _Who would be calling me at this hour?_

Fear rose in her chest as she wondered if something had happened to her father or Hannah. What about Bess and George? Were they okay?

All the times that her family and friends had been put in danger suddenly came back to the girl detective, threatening to make her sick. But the ringing still echoed through the room. She needed to answer it.

Nancy slowly paced towards the bed where she had gently tossed her phone onto the blankets. It vibrated against the soft comforter, its screen lit up brightly. She set her pajamas and toothbrush on the bed, and her hand trembled slightly as she took the mobile from its place and looked through the glass that separated her from the phone's mechanics. There was no caller ID, only the answer and ignore options.

Hesitantly, she answered the phone and held it to her ear.

"Nancy Drew," a deep, clearly edited voice said from the other end, "Your experience with Cathedral has attracted our attention. Come to Tompkins Square Park in New York City tomorrow at nine A.M., you will understand then."

The cellular device slipped from her hand and hit the carpeted floor. This wasn't right; this wasn't right at all.

Nancy bolted and threw open the door. She wasn't entirely surprised to see Frank standing a few feet from her in the hallway, his phone in his hand.

"Did you…?" she left the question hanging.

"Yeah. I was just coming to talk to you."

"Frank, something's wrong here. They know about my work with Cathedral."

He nodded, a worried look standing out in his expression. "They also know about ATAC and the Network."

This was bad. "How could they know about those? Ninety-eight percent of the FBI doesn't even know about ATAC and the Network!"

"I don't know." Frank thought for a moment. "Unless…"

"Unless?"

Now he looked really worried. It scared Nancy to actually see him concerned over a suspicious call. Typically they were pretty routine for the detectives, but this time it was different. "You don't think it's somebody we've already beaten, do you?"

"I get the feeling you're not talking about anybody we've busted for petty theft."

"Wish I was," he admitted. "I'm talking more like a terrorist organization."

Nancy frowned. "You're not talking about Revenant…"

"Not specifically," he said. "But-"

Suddenly the door to Joe's room opened, and a half-asleep Joseph Hardy stepped into the hall. "I hope you two realize it's nearly three in the morning. Even old married couples don't argue at this hour."

"We weren't arguing," Frank said mildly.

Nancy crossed her arms. Joe was acting as though nothing had happened but a simple disagreement.

But what about him? Hadn't he gotten a call like she and Frank had? Maybe he hadn't heard his phone; maybe the caller didn't know that Joe was back in Bayport…

_Or maybe he's working with them._

She thought it best to keep her suspicions to herself – at least until Joe was out of earshot. But the idea kept nagging at her.

"Well, keep it down, will ya?" Joe groaned as he spun around to go back to bed. "Some of us have jet-lag."

"Oh, well we'll do our best to keep ourselves _alive_ quietly."

Frank's words alerted Joe that something was going on. His brow furrowed as he turned back to them. "What are you talking about?"

"Did you not get a phone call?" the older brother asked a bit indignantly.

"What, is Callie trying to get back together?" he put on a pouty face for emphasis.

Any other day, Frank would have smacked him for that. But things were just too serious for games. "Give me your phone."

"No."

The boys went back and forth at each-other, each trying to justify their side. Finally Nancy sighed and slipped past them, neither even noticing her sudden absence. She walked into Joe's room, found his phone sitting on a nightstand, and came back out before the bickering had even slowed down.

Leaning back against the wall, she tried to figure out the phone's passcode. A standard grid of numbers was in front of her containing the numbers zero through nine. It was a four digit PIN code, Nancy assumed amidst the noise. She tried various combinations before finally unlocking the phone with zero-four-one-seven.

"Joe?" she spoke up, and as soon as he glanced her way both men were quiet. Joe's mouth was open with shock as he tried to figure out how Nancy had managed to get ahold of his phone. She raised an eyebrow. "Your passcode is Bess' birthday?"

Frank couldn't help it - he doubled over laughing. A flash of embarrassment came and went across Joe's face that was quickly replaced by indignation, and he quickly made a grab for the mobile. "Give me that!"

He got his hand around it, but Nancy held firm as the opposing forces tugged at the phone. Suddenly the screen lit up and a tone sounded, though it wasn't loud enough to penetrate through the quarrelling.

"Joe," Nancy said seriously as she realized what was happening. "Joe!"

Finally both detectives lost grip and the device fell to the ground. Nobody moved except to nervously glance at one-another. It was a few seconds before Joe moved to answer the phone.

"Joseph Hardy," the same voice said, "Your experience with ATAC and the Network has attracted our attention. Come to Tompkins Square Park in New York City tomorrow at nine A.M., you will understand."

Frank pressed his lips together into a tight line. "That's the same message they gave me."

"Would somebody like to explain what's going on?" Joe asked exasperatedly.

"I think somebody wants us to go to New York City," Frank murmured thoughtfully.

Joe rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you, Frank. That's _very_ insightful."

Biting back a remark, the older brother glared at his younger. Another round of arguing was in the air, but Nancy moved between them and stretched her arms out at either side of her, keeping them apart. "Okay, guys. It's after three o'clock in the morning and believe me, I wouldn't mind some stress relief, either."

The two made an effort to push past her, but she held firm in her position. "_But_ I'm also a little freaked out right now seeing as how I just got a phone call that was most likely from a terrorist organization!" her voice kept rising as she spoke until she was yelling the last words of the sentence.

The boys quietly stepped back as they realized she was right; this wasn't the time to act like kids.

Nancy was breathing slowly but heavily, her arms still pushed out. "So if you two want to have it out, then that's fine with me. But in the meantime, I'll be trying to keep us alive for as long as I possibly can." She briskly turned and stormed back into her room.

Frank and Joe winced as the door slammed. They heard Nancy angrily muttering, which eventually escalated to shouting, and then the slamming of another door (they figured it was probably the door to the bathroom).

Without another word, Joe paced calmly back to his bedroom. Frank followed suit, and he laid in the darkness of his room listening to Nancy yelling to herself from the guest room next door. It went on for several minutes before her voice finally subsided and all he heard was the barely audible sound of her crying.

* * *

**A/N: Poor Nancy. **

**Well, that update was way longer than I thought it would be. Hopefully it'll get you through 'till Monday. ;)**

_**UPDATE:**_** Chapter may not be posted until late Monday or sometime Tuesday-ish. My mom is having minor surgery and I probably won't be able to work on the story for a day or so. Really sorry for any delay! :)**


	4. Chapter Three

**I am so so so so soooooo sorry! Between this being such a big chapter, my brain being half-blocked, Christmas, and plenty of other stuff this was just a day late! Honestly, I'm barely getting it up now. So I humbly apologize if this is terrible as part of it was speed-edited due to my busy schedule. **

**Shout-out to all my awesome reviewers max2013, Foxy101, bhar, barb, GJFH, The Vulture, j, Guest, and guest. **

**Guest: I see your points, but at the same time there are a number of perfectly logical explanations that perhaps I should have thought to include in the story. For example, with all the yelling and slamming of doors, what if Fenton and Laura are heavy sleepers, which couples with Frank, Nancy, and Joe being clear on the other side of the house? Or perhaps Laura was out of town until early the next morning, and Fenton decided that the three 'kids' are old enough to work this out themselves? I greatly appreciate your feedback and how you pointed these things out! **

**My cat doesn't own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys. Sadly, neither do I. **

* * *

The next morning, Laura hugged Joe tightly to her, being so thankful to have her baby boy back (he would _always _be her baby, no matter how old he got).

"But how?" she asked, now holding him at arms' length.

Joe winked at her. "Oh, you know me and my superior talent at getting out of sticky situations."

"And apparently his _superior talent_ at being late," Frank deadpanned as he walked into the sunlight kitchen.

Crossing his arms, Joe huffed, "I'm not that bad."

"You should have been back here over a year ago."

Joe tried to think of a clever comeback, but for once in his life Frank had left him with nothing – not even a witty remark. He glared at his big brother, knowing that he was down yet still refusing to admit defeat.

Frank, who was grinning in victory, moved towards the coffee machine to start making some of the black, caffeinated liquid.

"No time for that," Nancy intervened as she briskly made her way through the room. She was already wearing her coat, and a small purse was hanging from her shoulder, so she was ready to leave for New York City. "If we have spare time once we're in Manhattan, we can stop. But I don't know what the traffic will be like so we need to go."

"Oh, but Nancy," Laura said in a calm, motherly voice, "I just got to see my son for the first time in fourteen months!"

With a heavy sigh, Joe slowly picked up his coat from where it had been draped over a chair in the breakfast area. "She's right, Mom. But I promise to answer any questions you may have – as long as the government doesn't come after me for accidently saying something I shouldn't have."

Laura laughed. "I see you haven't lost that sense of humor."

"I wasn't kidding," Joe told her with a slightly confused look.

His mother's eyes went wide. Before she could say anything, though, Joe pulled on his coat and headed out the door. Nancy and Frank stayed back for a long moment.

"How long do you think it'll be before he realized he forgot shoes?" Frank asked Laura.

The middle-aged woman shrugged. "Any minute now."

"Frank," Nancy hissed while scooting closer to him to be more easily heard. "Are we really taking Joe?"

"Why wouldn't we?"

"Why wouldn't we?!" the redhead echoed Frank indignantly. "Look at the evidence! His death was faked, he committed some crime in Afghanistan of which we don't even know the details, then he suddenly just shows up more than a year later without a scratch, and now he's being evasive about answering questions."

Frank looked at her for a long moment, his discomfort with her accusations becoming more apparent. "I think we need to give him a chance."

Nancy didn't look too thrilled with the idea.

"He's my brother, Nan! I'm not going to just toss him out at the side of the road two seconds after getting him back!"

After thinking for a long moment, Nancy heaved a sigh and told Frank, "Alright. But if he makes a move, that's _it._ Deal?"

Frank nodded. "Deal."

* * *

"Are you sure this isn't a trap?" Frank asked Nancy as he handed her a cardboard cup holder with three cups of coffee placed snugly in it.

"Oh, it's a trap all right."

Joe's eyes widened as he sat in the backseat of Frank's car. "Come again?"

"Well, what self-respecting terrorist-"

"We don't know for sure that they're terrorists," Frank corrected her as he drove away from the coffee shop, which was placed just a few blocks from Tomkins Square Park.

Nancy glared at him for a moment before turning her sights back on Joe. "What self-respecting _mysterious caller_-"

"Better." Frank nodded.

"-Would tell us to go to New York City without there being a trap?"

"Uh… Oprah?"

Nancy raised an eyebrow. "Oprah? Joe, that doesn't make any sense!"

"Of course it does!" he retorted, "Why would Oprah call us and set a trap?"

Shaking her head, the woman looked out the windshield. "No… Just, no…" The logic vacuum was about to give her a headache.

"Never mind that," Frank said quietly as he slowed the car. "We're here."

Once the car was parked, the team cautiously stepped out, trying to mentally prepare themselves for anything.

As she walked through the entrance, Nancy realized that the park didn't seem particularly unique from other parks that she had encountered – even ones back in River Heights. Bright sunlight filtered through the trees that were scattered throughout the area and wood-and-iron benches stood next to a worn sidewalk. She heard birds chirping in the trees. It seemed so peaceful and happy, yet the situation had her completely on-edge.

"There are people here," Nancy murmured as she took in about half a dozen people in the immediate area.

"Yeah, and I see a few cops," Joe pointed out a two uniformed men eating their lunch on one of the benches. "Do you think they'd make a move with so many witnesses?"

Frank frowned as he thought about it. "Maybe… it depends on who we're dealing with."

The brothers continued to lay out various scenarios, each one looking grimmer than the last. Nancy scanned the area around them and caught sight of a man and a woman, both with dark hair and sunglasses. They wore clean-cut, professional suits. Their faces were nearly expressionless as they walked with purpose towards the three detectives.

"Guys," Nancy murmured hesitantly, causing Frank and Joe simultaneously looked over. Frank moved to stand slightly in front of Joe and Nancy, unwilling to let either of them get hurt or even killed.

"Frank Hardy, Joseph Hardy, and Nancy Drew." the man addressed them plainly. These guys must have known what they were doing, Nancy assumed, which meant that they were probably armed.

"What's going on?" Joe demanded.

The woman spoke up this time. "We need you to come with us, please."

"Why?"

"That's classified at the moment."

Joe looked like he was about to explode, but Frank held out his arm to stop the blonde from doing anything rash. "And what if we say no?" Frank asked calmly.

"We can use force, if necessary." The man pulled one side of his sport coat over to reveal a 9mm Glock fit into a holster.

Suddenly a middle-aged woman shrieked from nearby. "He has a gun!"

Maybe these guys weren't such awesome kidnappers.

"Okay, that's it!" the woman of the two suddenly reached out and grabbed Nancy. One hand went to hold her own gun to Nancy's temple while on her opposite side she used her arm to firmly hold the redhead so that she faced the boys. For someone so short and thin, she was incredibly strong and her grip on the girl detective never slipped. "Get in the car!" the dark-haired woman ordered. Okay, at least _she _knew how things were done.

Nancy could see the panic that was rushing through Frank. His eyes went wide as adrenaline shot into his bloodstream. He wanted to do something so badly as he watched her struggle to pull her captor's arm away, but one false move and Nancy could die. So Frank did the logical thing…

He put his hands up and surrendered.

* * *

Frank sat dead still on the floor in the back of a black SUV. There were no seats in the back of the vehicle and a sturdy wall separated him from the front seats, so he assumed that the whole thing had been modified for the specific purpose of kidnapping. Frank's gaze was set on the beige carpet as he wondered what had happened to his brother and Nancy. His thoughts were wandering back and forth, weaving through the gaps between optimism and pessimism. How were they going to get out of this?

Everything was falling apart. Then things were okay again. But the circumstances were looking bleaker by the minute.

And then there was Joe. Was Nancy right? Did he really commit the crime that he had been accused of? Could he still be trusted?

The big brother in him wanted to say yes.

And then there was the little gut feeling deep in the pit of his stomach telling him no.

Questions kept tumbling around in his head for what seemed like ages, though not even two minutes had passed before his thoughts were interrupted by one of the vehicle's doors opening and a slim figure being thrown carelessly inside before the door was again closed.

"Nancy!" Frank cried as he rushed to her. He helped her sit up and put his hands on her shoulders. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

She nodded. "My reputation may be a bit scarred, but I'm not too worried about that right now."

"We need to figure a way out of here," he said, but didn't move. Finally, he asked, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Frank," she laughed. "I'm _fine_." She sounded like she was becoming a bit exasperated, but in actuality she was touched that he cared so much. _Never mind that, Drew. You and Frank are just friends. _

"Where's Joe?" he asked.

Nancy glanced around the SUV, not fully having realized that Joe wasn't there. She hadn't been paying that much attention, and mentally kicked herself for it. "I don't know."

A sick feeling swept over Frank as realization set in. He sat back, his expression having gone from relieved right back to grim. "Nan, you don't … you don't think he's working with them, do you?"

She was quiet for a moment, not meeting his eye. The sound of the vehicle's engine starting was faintly heard against the silence, and they started moving. "A year ago I would've said you were crazy," Nancy admitted as she absentmindedly picked at the carpet with her fingertips. "But now… I'm not so sure." She looked at him, the look in her eyes desperate. Nancy needed him to understand. "Frank, I _really_ want to say I trust him, but after what happened in Afghanistan-"

She was cut off by a sudden hum coming from the SUV's air vents. A cool breeze started blowing at them, and Nancy soon detected a faint odor as she started to become dizzy.

"Frank!" she called urgently, leaning against the wall of the automobile. Her eyes grew heavy and she fought to keep them open while looking towards the dark-haired Hardy. When she saw him slumped over, her heart sank. She lost her grip on consciousness and just barely registered her cheek hitting the dirty floor mat before everything went black.

* * *

The first thing Nancy was aware of was a painful pulsing in her head. It was a classic knockout gas headache, which she often suffered after breathing in the harmful substance.

"Nancy? Nan, wake up." Frank's voice was the second thing she registered as he gently shook her arm. She pulled it away, but any motion just made her head hurt even worse. Soon she realized that she was sitting in a chair and leaning forward so that her head and arms rested atop a table. The carpet she had felt earlier against her face had been replaced by smooth wood, and the hum of an engine by the quiet murmur of voices.

She slowly opened her eyes. One hand went to stabilize her head as she lifted it, every inch of movement setting off a new wave of pain. Looking to her right, she saw Frank with a small smile on his face. "Look who decided to rejoin the conscious."

"What happened?" she asked wearily.

"Well judging by the headache I can tell you have, I'd say they gassed us." Frank looked at her sympathetically. "You okay?"

Nancy sighed. "I'll be fine."

"What _is_ this?" Joe's voice sounded from the other end of the room, near a glass door. Nancy realized that they were in a conference room, with a huge table, multiple chairs, and a pricey-looking monitor hanging on one wall. "This whole thing has some sort of state-of-the-art card reader!" the blonde continued angrily as he crouched in front of an electronic panel placed in the wall.

Eyeing Frank, the redhead raised an eyebrow. "He's okay?"

"Yeah. He was here when I woke up," the older brother shrugged, "I guess they stuck us in different cars."

Nancy looked back towards Joe, who angrily hit the panel he had been working on. "I don't know how to get past it!" he stood up and braced his hands on the back of one of the spinning office chairs, frustration evident on his features.

"Why don't you just break the glass door?" Nancy asked.

"Can't," Joe told her, "We tried. The thing's probably bulletproof."

"What do we do now?"

Sighing, Joe told her, "I guess we just sit back and wait."

The idea didn't go over so smoothly with Nancy. She had no interest in being a sitting duck. "That's the best you can come up with?"

"Well, I don't see you coming up with anything better!"

"Who cares? I'm not just sitting around and waiting for someone to come and put a bullet through my head!"

"She's got a point," Frank admitted.

Joe sent an angry glare at him. "Who asked you?"

In a matter of seconds the three were on their feet and arguing like seven-year-olds, the sound of their bickering drowning out every other noise in the room. Soon after the quarrels started, a young woman entered the room, her green eyes scanning over a clipboard. She was very fit with her height just slightly above average. Light brown hair was kept out of her face in a tight bun. She wore a dark gray suit and had a confident air about her.

Just after stepping inside, she saw the three detectives' disagreement and stopped short, the door slowly closing behind her. "Frank?" she tried to intervene. "Joe?" The noise went on, though. Nancy, Frank, and Joe hadn't even noticed the woman's presence. Knowing that they didn't have time to act like little kids, she finally raised her voice. _"Guys!"_

All three of them whirled around to face her, and Nancy jumped a little as the voice echoed through the room. After that, there was silence.

"Becky?" Frank finally spoke up, and Joe's jaw nearly hit the floor.

She couldn't contain a small smile. "Hey Frank." In the shocked silence that followed, the woman added, "And it's _Rebecca_ now; I outgrew 'Becky' a long time ago."

Okay. Definitely not terrorists.

"Becky… what's going on? What are you doing here?" Joe asked exasperatedly, ignoring the name change. "Actually, scratch that last one. Where exactly is 'here'?"

In response, Rebecca opened a small cabinet which had been pushed against one wall of the room and pulled out a remote control. As she pressed down on a button, the monitor at the other end of the room sprang into life and showed a logo bearing a familiar name.

Rebecca crossed her arms, satisfied with the surprised yet confused looks she was met with. "Welcome to Network HQ."

* * *

"…So now I'm second in command." Rebecca said after they had all sat down.

"You know," Frank pointed out after she had finished, "You could have just texted me and asked me to meet you. So why call at three in the morning with an edited voice?"

Rebecca shrugged. "I figured that would get your attention a bit more than a regular old text message. Even just calling with the old 'Hi, how ya been?' would have been boring," she chuckled a little.

"Okay, hang on," Nancy cut in. "Would somebody like to tell me what's going on?" Looking at Frank and Joe, she added, "Like _how_ you three know each-other?"

The elder brother glanced at Rebecca before turning his gaze to Nancy. "We worked together over junior year of high school as Network operatives."

"Only four or five times, though," Rebecca added.

"Seven." Joe glared at the brunette woman as he added, "And every time she _had_ to listen to the same Chris Tomlin CD over and over and over again."

Raising an eyebrow, Rebecca watched the young man carefully. "Well, Joe… as I recall, I only played that CDwhile we were in the car. You, on the other hand, used to constantly blare Elvis while we were on a stakeout."

"Didn't we almost get killed one time because of that?" Frank asked, grinning a little.

"Yes, we did. And after that I always took his iPod away before a stakeout."

Joe crossed his arms. "It was one bad guy with shotgun! I didn't know he'd hear it!"

"Sounds like you three had some good times," Nancy smiled, meaning it.

At this, the Network's second-in-command stopped smiling. She stopped smirking, stopped grinning. Now she was serious.

"Okay, you guys… I'm going to give it to you straight - no loopholes like Gray always tried." Under her breath, she added, "Not that they ever worked..."

Frank frowned and tried to meet her eye. "Becky, what's wrong?"

She had stared at the table for a long moment, but then she sighed and looked up at the three people around her. "You guys remember the Assassins?"

Joe clenched his fist. He'd tried so hard to forgive and forget; to move on. Iola's killer was dead. In fact, Joe often had to remind himself of that. Al-Rusasa, who had been an Assassin agent, had fallen to his death at the Bayport Mall. So why did he still feel rage just at the mention of the organization.

The hurt was still there, the feeling of loss for his first serious girlfriend. It was like this lump of pain and dread had walked in and just pushed Iola straight out of his life before trying to take her place.

Noticing Frank looking at him, the blonde met his gaze. Worry stood out in Joe's eyes, and he hoped that Frank would catch on.

"Yeah," Joe swallowed hard. "I remember."

Rebecca pressed her lips into a tight line before going on. "I think you boys already know this, but I'll say it for Nancy. The Assassins fell apart about six months after Frank graduated from Bayport High. At this point, some government budget cuts were made and an executive order was issued to shut us down, dubbing the Network as 'no longer a necessary operation.'"

Nancy nodded.

"Well, two days ago a CIA agent reported a high-level threat in Cairo. The president immediately had us reinstated, but we only have a few staff members on hand right now. And our only field agents are… well… you three."

"Are you going to bring Charlie back in?" Joe asked.

"I'm reinstating him, but as an advisor, not a field agent." She shrugged. "He said he wanted to work with communications instead of being out on the front lines; which is a bit odd, but understandable considering his being in the Army. I'm also sending this teen scientist named Logan over to Cairo. He'll be your contact."

Frank looked at the brunette woman and inquired, "Hold on. If the government is opening us back up then these guys, whoever they are, have got to be worse than any of the others that we've beaten. So _who_ or _what_ are we dealing with?"

She stared at him, hard and serious. "The Assassins are back, Frank. And so much stronger than ever before," her voice shook a little, which greatly surprised the boys. Rebecca Milton was one of the strongest women they had ever known. Someone could have broken into her house with a gun pointed at her and she would have somehow gotten dinner in the oven while knocking him out. So seeing the fear in her eyes, hearing the panicky quiver riding on her voice… it was unsettling.

"The New Assassins are in Cairo."

* * *

**Reviews help me out a great deal! **

**I should probably mention now that I'm going on Christmas/New Year's break, and this will be the last update of the year. I'll be back sometime during the first half of January. Sorry for the long wait, but during this time I will try to take a real hard look at the story and figure out how I can make it better and hopefully have things make a whole lot more sense. Sorry for how lousy it's been so far - I'm trying!**

**Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, Feliz Navidad, Happy Hannukah, whatever it is you celebrate - make it happy! :) See ya next year. **


	5. Chapter Four

**Hey guys, it's been awhile! Happy New Year and whatnot! ****I once again apologize for my prolonged absence. It was honestly stressing me out to try to write/edit so quickly on top of everything else I have to do, and the extra time was much needed. Please understand that it sometimes takes hours to edit a single chapter - even a short one. And also, it's late and I'm overtired so I really hope that the chapter turned out okay. But if it stinks, then I'm very sorry. **

**Anyhoo. **

**A hefty thanks to my reviewers: barb, GJFH, The Vulture, j, Foxy121, max2013, Guest, and guest. **

**Disclaimer: I do not and probably never will own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys. Why do we even need these disclaimers anyway? Do I LOOK like Carolyn Keene? **

* * *

"New Assassins?" Nancy echoed Frank's words quizzically.

He nodded. "Becky told me that they're sometimes abbreviated as NA. And they don't exactly sound like a friendly bunch."

Nancy whistled. From what Frank had told her, the NA was definitely a group she didn't feel like messing with. Although, considering the fact that she was sitting in a large private jet on the way to Cairo, it looked like she would have to.

"You know something?" Nancy asked him. "I think I'd like to go back to nice, boring stakeouts in in the States."

"Yeah, no kidding."

Shifting to look over Frank's shoulder, Nancy peered at the casefile he was reading. "Anything else I need to know?"

Frank glanced at her with a smile before turning back to the file. Nancy had a natural curiosity that was enough to get them both into a heap of trouble, but it had also saved a lot of lives. "We're going after some sort of chemical weapon. The official name is HG-4220, part of something they're calling Project Cosmopolitan. That's the big thing that's supposed to be holding the NA together right now."

"The Cosmopolitan Virus," Nancy read the weapon's nickname off the file. Turning her gaze to Frank, she asked, "Why do they call it that?"

"It's supposed to be a deadly pandemic. This thing could go worldwide to every person on the planet; it would be a massacre."

Nancy looked at a picture clipped to the file and saw what looked like a can of hairspray, but with danger labels practically covering it, though that was simply a guess at what the Network thought it looked like. "Death in an aerosol can. But no pressure, huh?" she glanced down at the casefile and then back to Frank. "Anything else?"

"It says that we're supposed to meet somebody named Logan Miller." Frank pulled a small picture free of a paper clip's grasp. It was a fluorescently lit portrait of a seventeen-year-old with curly red hair and green eyes. "He's some sort of super-genius chemist that going to help us."

"He's a chemist at _seventeen_?"

Grinning a little, the elder of the Hardy brothers asked, "Didn't you solve your first mystery when you were two-and-a-half?"

Nancy smiled sheepishly. "Touché," she acknowledged while sitting back. "I guess teenaged super-geniuses aren't as rare as they used to…" she trailed off as Joe walked past them, leaving her sentence unfinished.

"What?" Frank asked. He followed her gaze until his eyes found Joe, and he realized why her train of thought had been rocked off course.

"Frank, he told me something," she admitted quietly. When he didn't say anything, she continued. "He-"

"Please fasten your seatbelts as we make our final descent into the Cairo International Airport. We will be landing in a closed off section to avoid public or NA detection."

Nancy didn't finish her sentence; she didn't even want to. Instead, she simply fastened her seatbelt and was quiet for the rest of the flight.

* * *

"I can't believe it," Frank muttered as he absentmindedly kicked an aluminum trash can. "We get stuck on another stakeout and this time we don't even have my car!"

The mission was clear and simple: wait for somebody to come out of the NA lab around the corner. At this point, they could catch the door before it closed and slip inside to grab the virus.

Nancy sighed. "Get used to the smell of littered alleyway; it's going to be a long night."

He moved to sit next to her on the ground, leaning his back against a brick wall. "Yeah, I guess so."

It was weird being back in Cairo with Nancy, especially after… well…

He'd promised himself that he would never talk about their Egyptian romance again, but that was back when he thought that Callie would be his wife one day. Nonetheles, he mentally slugged himself for dwelling on the subject. It was not the time to worry about his feelings.

Pushing that aside, Frank glanced towards a rooftop not too far from where he and Nancy were stationed. Joe and Logan were up on top of the building as the team's "eye in the sky," as the younger Hardy had giddily put it while taking a pair of binoculars from Frank.

The team met Logan soon after arriving in Cairo. He was so funny that at times Nancy had had to catch her breath because she had been laughing so hard. And the young woman had to admit to Frank and Joe – he was an all-around great guy. With curly red hair and freckles, which combined with his bright personality and a slight British accent (which he mentioned was a product of living in the UK for seven years of his childhood), it couldn't be denied that he was cute and fun to be around, even if Nancy was not at all interested in him from a dating perspective. But she suspected that he'd make some young, possibly British girl very happy one day.

Once the team had gotten to the more urban area where the NA was supposed to be stationed, Joe and Logan had gone straight for a rooftop position, which left Frank and Nancy in the dirty alley. After all, _somebody_ needed to stay on the ground in case of any unexpected activity.

After an elongated lull in conversation between the pair, Nancy finally shifted a bit and said, "I hope Joe and Logan are actually keeping a lookout up there."

"I hope so too." Honestly, Frank was beginning to worry. Not about the safety of his brother or Logan, but about which side Joe was playing for. The feeling of distrusting his own little bro felt foreign and uncomfortable but… something about the way that Nancy had stared at Joe on the plane had unsettled something deep inside him.

More silence stretched out. Quietness on a stakeout was something not at all uncommon, especially between these two. Their brains were constantly working, which sent them wandering through their own thoughts.

"Hey Frank?" Nancy finally asked as she looked at him with serious eyes. Her expression carried concern, and despite her being tall and strong, she suddenly seemed so fragile to Frank. Nancy was a woman – a precious, delicate gift from God that was not to be mistreated or ignored. Her mind worked clearly and even faster than his more often than not. And yet, he had been forcing himself to push away from her all this time just so that he could salvage a boat wreck of a relationship. But he and Callie had been done and over for a long time with nothing left that could be repaired.

"Nan?" he addressed her quietly.

They stared at each-other for a moment, eyes locked. Neither of them said a word. But Frank suddenly wanted so badly to risk a lifetime of friendship just to say a few words, and though he didn't know it, Nancy was in the exact same position.

"I truly hate to interrupt this love story that I've been trying to put together for _years_," Frank's communicator watch suddenly crackled with Joe's energetic voice, "But sadly, we have somebody coming out of the building."

Frank was admittedly about ready to clobber his brother. _It was probably for the best. You and Nancy are just friends. Get yourself together! _

Both detectives shifted awkwardly and all-out refused to meet each-other's eyes. Nancy cleared her throat as she stood up, and Frank replied through his communicator to Joe, "We're on our way."

It wasn't much longer before the pair was darting around the corner and meeting their teammates. There was no assassin in sight, so Nancy reached out and stopped the slowly closing door. "Come on," she hissed to Frank, Joe, and Logan. They joined her in a matter of seconds and they all went inside, the door finally swinging shut behind them.

Frank hit a button on his communicator and asked, "Charlie, you ready on those security cameras?"

* * *

"Char… eady… cameras?" the Bluetooth crackled into Charlie's ear. He sat before a desk at Network H.Q. in the science lab, which was a highly modernized facility - all glass-and-lights with equipment that was pretty stinking high in price. The computer station he worked at was just as awesome as the rest of the lab. Three large, flatscreen computer monitors practically surrounded him and they all held readouts of different feeds. A couple of other people were working in the lab; one was Rebecca and the other an Asian scientist in her late twenties. What was her name again? Brynna? Brooklyn? He couldn't remember.

"You're breaking up," he replied to Frank while typing at a keyboard that sat on the desk. "Can you repeat?"

Now there was just static.

"Requesting you repeat that last transmission."

This was bad. There were four people going into enemy territory and now they had lost contact.

"Frank, come in!" Charlie said urgently. "Do you read me? Come in!"

He took out the Bluetooth and threw it onto the desk, muscles tense as his breathing quickened.

"What's going on?" Rebecca asked in a calm yet firm voice. That was her take-charge tone, and everyone on the Network team knew it. She strode towards the computer station to look over Charlie's shoulder to look at the display on one of the screens, which, like his audio, was shaking with static.

"I've lost most of my communication with the team," he replied. "The audio is completely gone and I'm losing my visual fast."

Rebecca frowned as worry leeched into her thoughts. "They didn't hack us, did they?"

"It doesn't look like it," Charlie answered while shaking his head. "I think they intercepted the signals and now they're blocking us."

The fit young woman paused. She had to think for several moments before asking, "How would they do that?"

Suddenly a burst of static feedback exploded from the computer's speakers. There was just enough camera footage for Charlie to notice something very dangerous in one of the lab's rooms before the video shut off completely.

"Oh no."

* * *

The boom of the explosion had been enough to make Nancy's ears ring. She was thrown to the concrete floor, small pieces of debris scattered over her. Dust and smoke swirled through the air and filled her lungs which made her sputter and wheeze.

After a small fit of coughing, the young woman became more and more cognitive. She was suddenly aware of a dull pain at the back of her head, where it had apparently hit the floor. Nancy ignored the headache, though, and slowly stood up.

She began to ponder what had happened. Most probably, it had been a bomb; maybe some sort of security measure. The blast must have been fairly powerful. It didn't look like she had been too close to the explosives, but she had still been knocked to the floor, unconscious.

"Nan?" Frank's voice echoed through the room. She whipped around and saw the lean man in the doorway of the large room. He looked filthy with soot streaking his face and ash settled in his hair.

"Frank!" she called back. Everything was spinning, but she still watched him jog towards her. At the last moment, she was overwhelmed by dizziness and found herself collapsing into his arms. He gently picked her up and carried her out of the building to safety.

She had just started to let herself fall back into unconsciousness when she noticed the dark red stain on his sleeve. It was slowly spreading, soaking into every square inch of fabric that it could. "Frank," Nancy picked her head up from its previous spot on his shoulder. "Frank, you're bleeding."

"I'll be okay," he insisted as they emerged from the now burning building.

"Put me down." The redhead squirmed out of his grasp, pushing past the now subsiding dizziness. Once she was on her own two feet she gently slid Frank's jacket off his injured arm. Blood was trickling away from a horizontal gash just inches below his shoulder, coming too heavily for Nancy's comfort. She went into business mode and tore off a piece of her own sleeve. Frank flinched as she pressed the blue cloth onto the open wound, but didn't say anything.

"Are you guys okay?" Joe asked with Logan in tow behind him.

"We'll live," Frank replied. He moved to hold the fabric firmly over his injury, which allowed Nancy to take her hand off of it.

Joe turned to Logan. "You alright?"

"I'm fine. Just one thing, though…"

"What?"

Logan grinned. "Can we do it again?"

The three detectives started at their young friend and bellowed, _"No!" _

Suddenly another boom pulsed through the air. The noise rocketed Nancy's mind back to the present situation. By this point, dark blue police cars were pulling up at the scene and officers began yelling at them in Arabic.

Nancy glanced over towards the guys. Frank and Joe were watching as the police officers rolled in, but Logan was staring straight towards the lab.

"The chemicals," he breathed, his eyes wide as he turned his gaze to Nancy.

Her eyes went just as big as his were. If there were chemical weapons in there then they had to get ahold of them and pray that they hadn't already been blown up. Depending on what they were dealing with, if the chemical's container was ruptured they could be dealing with toxic smoke and fumes across Cairo. The city wouldn't even have a chance to prepare for the massacre that would likely ensue.

Without a second thought, she darted into the burning building.

* * *

"Nancy!" Frank cried as he caught sight of her running back inside. _What does she think she's doing?!_

As if that wasn't bad enough, Logan was right on Nancy's heels. Frank turned to Joe, and the brothers shared a look of unease.

"Why did they go back in?" Joe asked.

"I don't know!"

They tried to push past the four policemen in front of them, but the officers were speaking _really_ fast. In Arabic. With raised voices.

Frank figured that they were probably being threatened somehow. In his experience, cops usually wanted him to put his hands up and move slowly. But there was no time for that!

"Please, our friends are in there!" he tried to explain, but these guys obviously didn't speak English.

"Frank!" Joe's voice cut through the air just as another blast rocked the lab.

* * *

Smoke poured into the darkened hallway as Nancy rushed through, trying to avoid sparking electrics and exposed wiring on the floor. She had to get to the laboratory on the second floor and get the weapons before it was too late.

Suddenly a hand was on her shoulder. The thought of an armed killer being right behind her suddenly played out in her mind. Panic coursed through her as she spun around and screamed.

"Logan," she breathed as she forced herself to calm down. With more force the sleuth added, "What do you think you're doing? It's dangerous in here!"

He shrugged. "I figured you needed a brave, young chemist to help you get it out."

"You've been hanging out with Joe too much." She began to head up a flight of stairs with the teen scientist next to her.

"Yeah; but seriously, we don't know what's in there."

Nancy reluctantly had to agree with him. As the two emerged into the second-story hall, they found the smoke and flames to be even worse than below them.

"Which room?" Logan asked while struggling to breathe through the thick gray clouds.

Nancy quickly scanned the area and saw a sign just a few doors down from them on the right. It was in both Arabic and English, and the English translation read _Project Cosmopolitan._ "Down here," Nancy pointed before the duo jogged to the door. "It's locked," she observed ruefully after trying the doorknob.

"Now what?"

The woman stepped back a few feet from the door and motioned for Logan to move off to the side. _"Ha!"_ she cried while spinning around and throwing a back-kick into the door. Her heel collided with the thick wood and it swung open as the lock gave way.

"Okay, I'm impressed," Logan admitted.

"You can be impressed later. Right now we've got a job to do."

They walked in and found several counters, cabinets, and shelves. All were crowded with various containers. Sinks stood here and there, and various computers were scattered about the room.

"Which one is it?" Nancy asked Logan. There were so many containers throughout the place that even with the name of the weapon, it could take all day to find it. And they certainly didn't have all day.

The freckled seventeen-year-old moved about the room, scanning over everything, every possible chemical compound in sight. After a few counters had been searched, he finally saw a stainless steel aerosol canister. The label was in several different languages, and down towards the bottom was English.

"HG-4220," he read aloud. "This has to be it." Excited, he held up the canister and shouted, "Nancy!"

His eyes widened as soon as he looked over towards her. Behind the young woman, a tall, strong man was about to attack. "Nancy, behind you!"

She spun around and darted away just in time to avoid taking a nasty hit. In response, Nancy went in for a strong roundhouse kick. Her leg hit hard and centered on the man's side, but he didn't even flinch. In fact, his mouth turned up into an unsettling grin.

Logan came in strong, landing a full-force punch from the side. "Nancy!" he tossed her the canister and she easily caught it in her two hands. Nancy darted past them, but suddenly her feet were pulled from behind. She fell forwards and slammed into the tile floor, the stainless steel container flying from her grasp. It hit the ground in front of her. The lid went at an angle so she could see the sprayer, and she held her breath for a second just in case.

"You okay?" Logan asked, coming around to help her up.

"Yeah." But the fight wasn't over yet. The man kept coming at them.

Suddenly another explosion caused the entire room to shake. Glass beakers fell and shattered while light fixtures came detached from the ceiling and crashed into counters. A hole opened up in the floor, right beneath Nancy and Logan's attacker.

He fell.

Logan dove to save him, but it was too late. With the long, sharp debris and extreme heat far below them…

"We have to go," Nancy said as she took the teen's arms from behind and pulled him up.

"No, we have to save him!" he cried, now trying to free himself from her grasp.

"Logan! It's too late now; he couldn't have survived that!" she yelled over the sound of crackling fire and multiple smaller explosions. Nancy looked into the young man's eyes and saw all the disappointment, pain, and anguish that she herself had carried for years. "Look, this was _not_ your fault!" she shouted, "You tried to save him! It wasn't. Your. Fault."

They stared at each-other for several seconds. When he finally nodded, Nancy took his wrist and pulled him behind her, making sure she had the canister (with the lid firmly back on it) in her other hand.

Nancy and Logan made a break for it down the staircase. The girl detective's cheeks stung as the heat hit, and her lungs felt like they were on fire from all the smoke.

"Nancy!" Frank's voice called out as they neared the exit. He stood just a few yards inside, probably having just run in to try and find the two redheads. Nancy never stopped running as she reached for Frank's hand with her free one and began dragging him behind her in addition to Logan. All three plus the canister containing the virus emerged from what had once been a lab, but was now just a pile of rubble.

* * *

"This is fascinating!" exclaimed Brooke Chan, a native of Japan and expert chemist, physicist, and biologist who was working in the Network lab. She looked up to see Rebecca Milton raising an eyebrow. Recovering quickly, Brooke stammered, "I mean… I've never seen anything like it before. Its viral structure could easily pack enough power to kill. If this had been released onto the city, it would have been a mass-murder!"

"And that's a good thing?" the second-in-command asked, still keeping up a disapproving manner.

Brooke shook her head. "No, no… well not _that_ part, anyways. But it could be an excellent opportunity to learn about new chemical bio-weapons."

"Good save." Rebecca gave her a small smile before once again turning all-business. "I want multiple safe-proofs on this thing, though. And a lockdown alarm installed. This virus doesn't go in or out of here without my say-so."

"I'll get right on it."

Seconds later, Frank and Nancy entered the room.

"Well, you look like you had a party." Rebecca deadpanned at the sight of them. Both looked beat up, despite showers and clean clothes. Bruises and scratches stood out on each sleuth. Frank's gash had earned him a few stitches, though the injury was covered by the sleeve of his button-down shirt.

"Some party," Nancy muttered, crossing her arms.

It had taken almost eleven hours to fly back to New York from Cairo, and between jetlag and everything else that had happened, Frank and Nancy were beat.

"Where are Joe and Logan?" Rebecca asked. "Wait, Logan _did _fly back over with you, right?"

Frank nodded. "Yeah, he did. In fact, I saw him around here somewhere. And Joe decided to drive on over to Bayport."

"Wanted to get some sleep, huh?"

"For once, I think he actually had a good idea."

"Hey, Frank?" Nancy suddenly spoke. He looked over at her and noticed she was shaking.

Frowning, Frank put a hand on her arm. "Nan, what's wrong?"

"Frank, I…" she was leaning on him now, her face pressed against his shoulder. "I don't… I don't feel…"

Suddenly she collapsed against him. He caught and held her so that she wouldn't fall, but worry seeped through into his thoughts, along with the horrifying realization that only Brooke was able to vocalize.

"The Cosmopolitan Virus."

* * *

**Dun dun dun! **

**At the moment, I'm not a hundred percent sure when the next chapter will be up. Unfortunately I have to choose between giving halfway decent content and speedy updating. It's unfair, I know. How about this? I'll try to have it up by January 22, but I can't make any definite promises. I know it's a huge jump from twice-a-week updates to more like every-two-weeks, but these days I just can't tell y'all that I can have it up in a few days. I'm sorry! :( **

**Love you guys! Thanks so much for your patience and feel free to leave a review. :) **


	6. Chapter Five

**A/N: Well, y'all have blown me away with the reviews on that last chapter. I love you guys! Thank you so much for all the feedback! And for your patience... *sheepish grin* **

**Mega thanks to all of my awesome reviewers: Kirsty, Caranath, max2013, Foxy121, bhar, GJFH, The Vulture, j, Guest, guest, J, NancyAustin, julia, and Warriors-Rock! **

**Apparently whoever owns Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys (I think it's still Simon & Schuster) is hogging them from poor fanfiction writers like myself because I sure don't own 'em. **

* * *

Frank jumped out of the ambulance as soon as it stopped and ran around to where Nancy was being unloaded. He quickly grasped her hand tightly in his own. It scared him to see her like this; breathing with a nasal cannula and the IV sticking into her arm. They looked uncomfortable, but the barely working logical part of Frank's mind reminded that she couldn't feel the needles and tubes through the barrier of unconsciousness that stood between her and the rest of the world.

"Nan," he said quietly amidst the paramedics' constant, hurried voices, "I'm right here. Don't give up on me now, Drew."

Once they were through the doors and into the ER, Frank was pulled away by a nurse who firmly told him, "Sorry, only family beyond this point."

"Look, she's from Illinois - I'm the closest thing to family that she's got right now."

The nurse shook her head, blonde hair brushing across her turquoise scrubs. "It's hospital policy. She's being put in isolation until we know exactly what we're dealing with. And because you rode in with her we have to keep you under isolated observation." She had made it clear that any opposition from him was pointless. In just moments, he was being escorted down the hall.

He soon found himself stuck in a room with only a few chairs, a coffee table, and a TV inside. The faded blue wallpaper along with wood that had been scratched one too many times made the whole room feel like a flashback to the '90s. Sighing, a worried Frank slowly lowered himself into one of the vinyl-padded chairs.

Not long after sitting down, an admittance nurse came and asked the detective enough questions about Nancy to write a short biography. Frank went with it, though. He figured the sooner that Nancy got treated, the better.

"Please let her be okay," he prayed under his breath after the nurse had left. His foot tapped the tile floor at frequent intervals. All he wanted to do was get up and check on Nancy. Just to know that she would make it…

…Just to know that she was still _alive._

The seconds dragged out painfully slow, as though each one was mocking him as it went past. He checked his watch. It had been half an hour since he had come in.

Then it was one hour; then two.

Finally, after what felt like _weeks_ of waiting, the door opened and a man wearing a white lab coat walked in. He had to be in his fifties, Frank assumed, and in addition to the coat and scrubs, he wore a precautionary face mask and vinyl gloves. Frank was on his feet immediately. He was anxious.

"Mr. Hardy," the man greeted Frank with an air of business as the two shook hands. All joking had been put aside a long time ago for the both of them. "I'm Dr. Peterson. One of the nurses said you were in here waiting to be cleared from isolation."

Frank nodded.

"You'll have to forgive me," Dr. Peterson murmured apologetically. "Apparently there was a mix-up on the paramedics' radio and we weren't warned of what we could be dealing with ahead of time; that's why we had to rush you off into an isolation room. Normally there are all sorts of protocols that even the paramedics have to sit through - I'm sorry, I'm doing it again! Just rambling on and on… It's a habit that I've been trying to break."

"Have you heard anything about the young woman I rode in with?" Frank saw a chance to say something and took it as soon as he could.

"Ah," Dr. Peterson shook his head. "You know, we normally only give this kind of information out to family, but in the patient file that was faxed to me from her doctor in River Heights, you were put down as her emergency contact, so…"

_Why would Nancy put me down instead of Bess or George? _It didn't make sense to Frank. After all, he lived all the way in Bayport! A part of him wanted to believe that it was because she just trusted him that much, but logic told him that that wasn't it. They were just good friends…

…right?

"I have to say," the doctor went on, "I'm still baffled at your friend's situation. I've certainly seen similar symptoms in a virus, but looking at it under a microscope, I've never seen one with this kind of… structure."

"Well, she's going to be okay, isn't she?" Fear lumped up in Frank's stomach. He couldn't lose Nancy; he'd fall apart and probably never pick up the pieces.

Dr. Peterson mulled the various problems over in his head; the dozens of confusing cell structures and strong resistance to every antiviral agent he could think of had left him unsure. Finally, he sighed and said, "I'll be honest with you: I don't know."

Frank's heart sank. His head was spinning. _This can't be happening, _his brain screamed at him. But reality begged to differ. He ran a hand through his hair. "Can I at least get out of here and see her?"

"When it comes to leaving isolation, it won't be long. We can run blood tests to make sure you don't have the virus. As for seeing her, though, we have to wait and make sure that this particular strain isn't contagious from one human to another."

The door again opened, and the nurse with the turquoise scrubs called, "Dr. Peterson, it's the virus patient!" Both hospital staff members ran out, leaving Frank to sink back into his chair.

"Please God, let her make it…"

* * *

"Why didn't Frank call me?!" Joe asked angrily, his look switching from Brooke to Rebecca, and finally landing on Charlie. The lab had been unusually quiet up until Joe had walked in. However, the cheery mood with which he'd arrived certainly wouldn't be the one he'd leave with.

Charlie held up his hands disarmingly. "Everybody knows you can't use cell phones in a hospital."

"More like shouldn't," Brooke murmured while she looked at something through a microscope. "Most people still do, though."

"I do," Logan shrugged as he walked in. When Brooke gave him a short glare, he added, "What?"

In response, Brooke simply shook her head and walked towards a set of see-through cabinets.

"Look, I didn't want anybody saying anything until we knew for sure that Nancy-" Rebecca stopped herself. The last thing Joe needed was to hear that his honorary big sister might not be alive anymore. With a slow sigh, she asked, "Does Frank use his cell at the hospital?"

The youngest Hardy shrugged. "I don't know." When Rebecca began staring at him hard, Joe defensively added, "Hey, up until about three days ago I hadn't seen Frank in over a year. Don't blame me if I seem a little out of touch with him."

"Right," the team leader muttered. Joe's evasive answer annoyed her. Speaking clearly to get her point across, she added, "Well, it hasn't exactly been a picnic for us. Keep in mind that right now we're in lockdown to prevent this thing from being released – I don't even know how you got in!"

"Try the front door!"

"We can't move until Brooke's cleared all of us and the compound! Right now we're stuck here!"

Joe swung out his arms in a wide gesture of exasperation. "What are you so worried about? How could it get worse?!"

"It could get a _lot_ worse! Not only is everyone on our team possibly infected, but we're on the edge of New York City. That's millions of people, going on to spread it to millions more, to millions mo-"

"Okay, I think I get it!" Joe exclaimed, holding up his hands to stop her.

Rebecca stared at him hard for a long moment before stepping forward and tightly grasping Joe's wrist. "Come on," she demanded, dragging him into her office. Once she had closed the door, the woman's arms crossed and her face took a stony expression. "Okay."

"Okay," Joe echoed, unsure of what was going on.

"Okay, it's time to spill it." Rebecca's level of frustration was climbing higher by the second, but she stopped herself before all temperance was lost. "What happened to you over in Afghanistan?" she whispered, searching his face for the truth about the whole situation.

Joe moaned and ran a hand through his hair. "You know I can't talk about that."

"What is it? What did you do that was _so terrible_ that you couldn't even bring yourself tell your own family?"

"Becky." Joe stared down at her seriously, warning her to stop. He was torn; a part of him wanted to tell her, but at the same time a different part of him said that she could never know.

Suddenly the voices of Brooke and Charlie cut through the door. They were yelling for help.

The impending argument would have to wait; both Network agents immediately knew that. They ran out the door and found Logan Miller laying face-down on the floor.

* * *

Frank stared blankly at the floor. The bustling around him was growing louder, the ring of telephones and shouts of nurses echoing through the white halls. But he barely registered any of it.

About a half hour earlier, he had been cleared from isolation and now sat out in the regular waiting room. Not knowing Nancy's condition was driving him insane. The stress and worry filled his brain until he wanted to scream. He let his head drop into his hands as he struggled to think clearly.

"Frank," Joe's voice called. The older brother looked up, and immediately moved to grasp Joe in a tight hug.

"What's this for?" the blonde asked.

Frank didn't say anything. After a moment, he let go. He was struggling to keep himself together by this point – an occurrence that rarely happened.

"Is it Nancy?" Joe asked, like the question wasn't obvious. Something was up.

Nodding, Frank replied, "They've got her isolated up in ICU until we can figure out if this thing really is contagious or not."

"I've got Brooke working on that back at the lab." Putting a strong hand on his brother's shoulder, Joe said, "Look, Frank, she's going to be okay."

The dark-haired man took in a long, deep breath and let it out, never meeting Joe's eye. "Her heart stopped."

Joe froze. "What?"

"They still don't know what happened. Her doctors were able to use a defibrillator and get her back, but… it was way too close."

"Okay… Frank, there's something I've got to tell you."

"Hmm?"

Bearer of bad news - isn't that what they call it? He certainly didn't want to take that role right then. Like his brother had earlier, Joe took inhaled deeply and let it out again, wishing that he could exhale some stress along with the air. "Logan has the virus."

Frank closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face. _Not Logan. No, he's just a kid. _

This couldn't be happening. It had to be some sort of nightmare or something. He wanted it to all just be one bad dream. Maybe he could pinch himself and wake up back in Bayport with the past fourteen months gone and things back to normal.

All that hope came unraveled when he felt the short, sharp sting on his hand, where his nails had pressed hard so that he could pinch himself. It was kind of ironic, Frank realized, that it was his dream for this to be a nightmare.

"He collapsed in the lab," Joe explained about Logan, tearing Frank out of his thoughts. "We got him in here as fast as we could, but… I don't know. I think he might be in worse condition than Nancy."

Frank hit the wall in frustration which earned himself a disapproving look from a nurse sitting at a desk. He didn't care, though. Honestly he was too scared to care. First Nancy, now Logan… who was next?

* * *

Rebecca leaned against a laboratory table and watched impatiently as Brooke moved various liquids from one test tube to another. Soon after the scientist would look at something under the microscope, she would make some adjustments to the concentration of the liquids, and repeat the process over and over again. It was a painfully slow series of experiments that hadn't seemed to do any good so far.

Finally, Rebecca was about to lose her mind. It felt like no progress was being made, like every time a question was asked, the same answer was given: 'I need more time.' Two of their own were _dying_. Something needed to get done and it needed to get done ASAP.

"Can't you go any faster?" she finally asked.

Brooke glanced up at Rebecca, an irritated look taking over her expression. "Do you know how hard it is just to keep this in a liquid form so that we don't get killed?! It's a miracle that I was able to use the stuff in my cabinet to clear us from having the virus so we could get Logan to the hospital! If this thing converts back to gas and we inhale it, then it's just as over for us as it is for-"

Rebecca stared at the scientist. She knew exactly who Brooke had been talking about. "So you don't think you can stop it?"

The Asian woman sighed dejectedly. "I'm trying."

"Well, try harder," Rebecca ordered. She turned to leave, but quickly turned around and came back with a regretful expression on her face. "I'm sorry. I know you're doing your best."

Brooke nodded in understanding.

"Joe called," Charlie announced as he walked in.

Rebecca's hopes rose. "And?"

"Logan and Nancy are both going downhill fast," he said while shaking his head. "The hospital's got them in isolated ICU. Anything on that virus yet?"

"It's useless!" Brooke cried, throwing an ink pen at the table in frustration. "I've tried every trick in the book, and I still don't even know what I'm_ looking_ at!"

"Keep trying. The lives of two people may depend on it," Rebecca told her as calmly as she could. It all sounded so wrong; a seventeen-year-old and the woman Frank loved.

Yeah, she knew - even if Frank didn't. Honestly, it hadn't been that hard to figure out. There was just a certain way that Frank looked at Nancy when her head was turned the other way. She never caught it, but the emotion was still there in his eyes, unguarded.

But that was off-point. Relationships weren't exactly a priority to Rebecca at the moment. It was just one stupid virus that she needed to figure out.

Her cell phone went off in her pocket. When she pulled it out and checked the number, she saw Joe's name stand out on the screen. The woman braced herself for the worst and answered it. "Joe?"

"Yeah."

He sounded tired. Normally he was so hyper and carefree, but now worry weighed down his usually strong voice. Rebecca let her head fall back and closed her eyes, praying for a miracle. "Are they…?"

"They're alive. For now." On Joe's end, he was leaning his back against a wall at the end of a hallway, watching out the window as the early-morning rain drizzled down. The sky was gray and dreary as though it knew what he was feeling and was saddened by Nancy's and Logan's conditions.

"How are they doing?"

Joe swallowed back a wave of bitter emotions. "Logan's body is fighting back hard. Nancy's slipping."

"I'm so sorry," the regretful tone in her voice was sincere. "I never should have sent you four into an NA lab."

"Becky, it's not your fault, okay?"

She sounded about ready to hit something. "It was stupid and risky, Joe, and you know it!"

He didn't want to play the blame game, even in spite of how much he was playing it with himself. "Yeah, and I would've done the same thing. It was a good move. Something that was beyond your control went wrong and you're not to blame for that."

Rebecca sighed. "Look, I've got work to do. I'll call you later."

They said goodbye and hung up. Looking towards Nancy's room, Joe saw his brother with his forearm just above eye level, leaning it against the window as he gazed through into the room. With his fist tightened and the way he stared at Nancy, Joe saw how much he cared about her.

"You okay?" the blonde asked, putting a hand on Frank's shoulder.

The older man shook his head. His voice was hoarse as he whispered, "No."

* * *

It had been ages since Frank had seen his brother, but he was still in the same position against the window that he had been in. The handsome detective stared at Nancy. She lay amidst bright white sheets with the nasal cannula still supplying her with oxygen.

He was used to seeing her as a fighter. Now she just seemed calm; too calm.

But on top of all that, he felt so helpless. All he wanted to do was to run in there and take every bit of virus from her. But even if he had that kind of superpower, nobody would let him in due to the possibility of the virus being contagious. Forget every gunshot wound, every knife, every broken bone he'd ever experienced; _this_ was sheer, bitter, torture.

He pressed his forehead against the cold glass. Closing his eyes, he prayed that she would fight it off, that she would get better. That she would _make it. _

"Come on, Nan," he willed her softly, watching her pale, thin form lay there without movement.

"Frank!" a voice suddenly called. Running footsteps echoed down the hall as he turned and saw a young woman coming towards him.

"Brooke?" he voiced as she skidded to a halt. "What are you doing here?"

"The virus-" she sputtered while trying to catch her breath. "It's only contagious if you touch their blood!"

Frank frowned. He may have been the straight-A student in high school, but Brooke's words weren't making a whole lot of sense even to him. "What?"

"I figured out what happened. In the report, when Nancy and Logan infiltrated the lab, Nancy said that she had fallen and the cap to the virus canister got pushed open. Everyone in the lab would have been infected without even knowing it."

He nodded. "Go on."

"They inhaled the gas. The only reason they aren't breathing it back out and passing it to us, though, is because this particular virus is absorbed very quickly through the lungs into the bloodstream. Throw in a delayed time of effect and boom! _That's_ what made Nancy's heart stop!"

"So the virus is in their blood," Frank ran a hand through his hair as he mulled over the information. "Do you have a cure yet?"

Her face fell. "No. And we've got another problem. The NA almost had it right. Molecularly, the structure of this 'Cosmopolitan Virus', as they call it, could easily be altered to make it extremely contagious. Even standing three feet from an infected person contact could constitute death."

"They'd send the world into a pandemic." Frank didn't like the sound of this, even if he was the one who said it. "Unless we had a vaccine and a cure, it would be the mass murder of millions, if not _billions_ of people."

"They'll figure out the structure any day now. I'm working on a vaccine for the new strain, but it'll take time. And I still don't have a _cure_ for either one."

Frank was quiet for a long moment. He suddenly felt like a monster for being so concerned about Nancy that he'd nearly forgotten about a dying seventeen-year-old. "Does Logan have any family?"

She shook her head. "Not that I know of. I think he grew up in various foster homes as an only child. When the chance to get away from that came around, he took it. Went to Europe and got a whole bunch of diplomas before finding out about the Network."

"It still isn't right. He shouldn't have gotten mixed up in all this."

Brooke let out something between a snort and a bitter laugh. "I'm starting to think that none of us should have."

* * *

**I'm so mean to you guys. **

**Poor Logan. **

**And Nancy. **

**Poor all of them, really. **

**Well, see ya! **


End file.
